


Your Patronage is Appreciated

by scribblywobblytimeylimey



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Fluff, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Schmoop, Steve is a master of snark, There will be Porn, UST, and marshmallows, etc. - Freeform, or art galleries-cum-studios, or for comedy clubs, or for spas, the boys are adorable stubborn puppies, turns out there isn't an AU tag for jazz clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblywobblytimeylimey/pseuds/scribblywobblytimeylimey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony Stark gets approached to join a charity initiative with half a dozen other local businesses in NYC, he - well, he signs the forms without paying any attention. </p><p>It's a bad move.</p><p>Turns out these other young entrepreneurs want to mix and mingle, at least when organised by the really annoying owner of an art studio and gallery, who also happens to hate coffee. It's like he has something personal against Tony.</p><p>Meanwhile, Pepper is convinced Tony is secretly interested in the annoying artsy guy. It doesn't <em>help</em> that all of them going around every venue set up as a stopping point for the fundraising fun-run-meets-treasure-hunt sounds like a terrible excuse to go out on dates with him. And it <em>really</em> doesn't help that some of the proprietors of these venues are convinced Tony's secretly interested in him, too.</p><p>[Currently on hiatus! I have the story planned out, but no time to write it. Not sure when it'll be back - in the meantime, feel free to check out my other fics!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [27dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/gifts).



 

 

**Tony**

Tony had a tab open for everyone in his head. That kid in the corner, piggybacking their Wi-Fi without a drink? Tony’s turned the AC on above his head remotely, and he was already starting to shiver. In about eight minutes, he would leave.

There was an elderly couple in the far right corner. Where the kid fell into Tony’s ‘annoying’ tag, these two were ‘adorable’ - one level away from ‘annoying’.

Call it a sense of equality. Tony wasn’t kicking anyone out for being too rich or too poor, too young or too old, too pretty or too unattractive. Kicking people out wasn’t his style, anyway; he preferred to snark at them via the electrical control panels until they left of their own volition.

He liked there to be a universal appeal to his coffee shop; a clientele which was accessible to all, yet held interest for all. He had a meticulous system. If there were too many office workers, he didn’t heat their coffee up as much so they wouldn’t be waiting so long for it to cool; and vice versa if there were too many.

Or maybe he was so bored he was micromanaging his customers like a less-fun, less fiery-death filled version of The Sims.

He was contemplating ways of introducing fiery death as a PR stunt when a beautiful brunette swung open the door, shifting the ratios dramatically. Her heels clicked on the tile and the late afternoon sun gave her hair an amazing shine.

“Hi there,” Tony said in a shamelessly sensual voice as she approached him. “What can I do for you?”

She stopped at the counter, glancing around the shop. “I’m here on business. My name’s Maria Hill. You’re the owner of this place?”

“Technically, no.” He dropped a washcloth on the side behind him and straightened a stray mug. “But given that the owner’s currently in Boston on business, and that I do all the heavy lifting around here anyway, feel free to address me, gorgeous.” He held out his hand. “Tony Stark.”

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr Stark.” She shook it. “You know, everyone around here knows all about you? Thing is, I’m not from around here.” She raised an eyebrow. “Know what that means?”

“Uh, my milkshake brings an even wider range of boys to the yard than Kelly Rowland’s?”

She leaned in and smiled. “Your reputation’s spreading.”

Tony smiled wolfishly back at her. “Hey; I’m not the way they make me out to be on the billboards.”

“Mm, no,” she agreed, running her eyes over him in appraisal. “You’re much shorter.”

“Um, ouch?” He clutched his chest. “You wound me, beautiful. Guess you’ll just have to slip out of the heels, right?”

She completely ignored him. Tony decided he liked her. “I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers initiative.”

“I see,” Tony lied absent-mindedly. “Look, the ‘I know who you are’ thing only really works one way with me…”

“I’m here on behalf of Nick Fury. He’s organizing a charity event in the city, and he’d like to make The Daily Grind one of seven stops around New York for a fun run and treasure hunt.”

Tony made a face. “I wish people didn’t call it that. ‘The Daily Grind.’ So dumb. Pepper chose it. She knows it annoys me.”

“What would you prefer people call your café?”

“I don’t know. How about, ‘that one place with the really hot owner’?”

“I thought you said you weren’t the owner?”

Tony beamed. “So you  _do_  think I’m hot.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying not to roll them. “Mr Stark, I’m here because your enterprise is one of a final two dozen selected for its prior contributions to charities, its effort in providing jobs for the youth in NYC, and its overwhelming work ethic. Don’t make me change my mind about this place within the first five minutes.”

Tony sighed. “Alright. Where do I sign?”

“Well, we can make arrangements for a meeting with the proprietor and Director Fury to discuss the details of your involvement - if you’d like a lawyer to be present, we c—“

“I’m hearing way too much small print, sweetheart. Is there something I can sign, here and now, so you can just text me details as and when you need me?”

Her lips pursed and she dug around for a clipboard, holding it out.

“Just pop it on the counter.”

She frowned at him. “Mr Stark, I haven’t got all day - I still need to head out to the Youth Arts Foundation studio, the comedy club on ninth, and-“

He signed it and pushed it back. “I just don’t like to be handed things, that’s all. Have a nice day, Ms Hill. I hope the comedy club improves your mood.”

Minus one ‘attractive’ and minus one ‘annoying’ in one shot.

All in all, the balance was maintained.

 

 

**Steve**

 

Closing time couldn’t come early enough for Steve. He was only two weeks into his pre-school program, and…well, ‘regret’ was a strong term, but he was pretty sure he had bruises in the shape of potato-printing flowers.

At least tomorrow was a Thursday, and Thursdays meant over-thirteens.

He sighed as he picked up the last jar of diluted mess, stretching his aching back. He was definitely too young for backache, but it was probably karma for moving his students’ sculptures into the front room by himself. He didn’t remember recommending lead as a good base material.

When the door opened, his first thought was that another parent had arrived - then he realized it was too quiet for any of the tykes to have been left behind. She could almost have been a parent, though, if it weren’t for the fact she looked less stressed and paint-stained and more polished and put-together.

“Mr Rogers?” She asked, and Steve nodded. “I’m glad I caught you - I hope this isn’t a bad time?” She shook his hand. “My name’s Maria Hill. I’m here on business.”

“Business, huh?” He tipped the clouded, pink water down the sink. “Should I be in something less paint-stained? Do we need to move to my office?”

She smiled at him. “No - this is as casual as they come.” She took a long look around. “I love what you’ve done with this place.”

“Well,” Steve said. “It’s a pretty simple design. More windows than anything else.”

“And the everything else is wood. It’s nice. Apart from the last place, this is the least gloomy building I’ve been in all day. I mean, ambient lighting’s great, but you can’t beat glass on a day like this, can you?”

Steve smiled at her. “I don’t know - it can get pretty warm in here; especially running around after these kids.” He nodded at the blue footprints on the floor. “You said you were here on business? How can I help you?”

“It’s for charity. I work for Nick Fury at SHIELD. Do you know it?”

Steve paused to think. “Uh, nope. Sorry.”

Maria laughed. “We fly under the radar. You know charities which use 100% of donations for their cause - none for admin or promotion or other miscellanea?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. You mean like Charity:Water?”

“Exactly. SHIELD is one of the organizations that helps make that possible. We manage independent donations to keep those charities running. It’s normally very behind-the-scenes, but Director Fury wanted to expand - partner up with local businesses which have a charitable history. We’re hoping for it to be long-term, but at this stage, we’re looking to make a quick map of target destinations for a single event.”

“That sounds great.” Steve folded his arms and smiled. “How many destinations are you going for?”

“We’re in talks with several establishments. Two have already signed.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, reaching up to put a jar on the shelf. For half a second, he thought he felt her eyes on him as his t-shirt rode up - but he was probably just being paranoid. He tugged it down and turned back round, his face feeling warm. “Who’s signed up?”

Maria consulted her notes. “That would be Tranquil Island spa and The Daily Grind.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “The Daily Grind? Isn’t that the coffee shop run by an underwear model?”

She smiled. “I believe that was one of Mr Stark’s most recent campaigns, yes, though he’s only its assistant manager.”

“Funny thing is, I think believe it too. The posters are what convinced me of the fact.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Steve said, quickly. “We draw our fair share of half-naked people around here. Who knows - maybe we can tear an ad out of Marie Claire and run a life-drawing collaboration.” Steve scratched his neck where the label of his t-shirt nudged it, hoping that didn’t sound as snarky as he’d thought. “Excuse me. It’s been a long, hot day. Yes, of course I’d be interested. I’m very flattered by the invitation. When's a good time for me to meet with Mr Fury?”

“Whenever’s good for you, starting Friday.”

“Friday’s good for me.”

“I’ll pencil you in,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for agreeing to meet instead of trying to sign it blind.”

Steve looked at her in disbelief before it clicked. “Stark, right?”

She didn’t answer. Oh, well - it was probably an invasion of privacy. Not that the man minded getting his privacy violated, clearly; everyone in the city had gotten a decent look at his abs.

After saying their goodbyes and closing the door, Steve frowned at himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been thought of as old-fashioned, but there was something about that flighty fashion model turned entrepreneur which was…how to put it?

Well, at least he could look up Tranquil Island and hope it wasn’t run by a young playboy millionaire.

Oh yes, that was it: annoying.

  

 

**Loki**

 

Maria couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a mistake from the instant she stepped inside. The girl at the ticket desk had directed her into the main theatre hall to speak to the man; the name on the posters was Loki, and he refused to go by anything other than his magician’s moniker.

It was a relatively small hall, and dusty, like an illicit back room, with green velvet seats and green velvet curtains flowing at the sides of a tiny, high stage, set in the room like a throne.

The entire seating area and the tiny orchestra pit were almost pitch black, and the one dim spotlight on the stage seemed to give off a blue glow. Top marks for creepy aura - she could certainly believe it as an illusionist’s den, but it looked better suited to dark comedy than the more family-friendly variety it promoted.

It was even dingier than the jazz club from earlier, but even that wasn’t what set Maria on edge.

There were two men on the stage who appeared to arguing. One was a handsome young man, maybe 17, with brown hair and acne scars. He stood like a puppet whose master had gone to lunch as the other man -

Well, attacked him. It was the only word for it. He was standing over to the far right, on the opposite side of the stage, yet he was still attacking him. He had fair skin, eerily pale in the dim blue light, and long dark hair; his suit was green and his voice was sharp and venomous. He was in his early thirties at the latest - this must be Loki.

And yet…

And yet he was  _snarling._

“Did I say you could stop?” He spat; the first words Maria was close enough to make out. “Did I? Answer me!”

“No,” the younger man stuttered.

“Then why did you stop?” Loki roared. “You think you’re so funny? Why don’t you prove it? Go on! Prove it!”

The man was shaking; Maria opened her mouth, but that was as far as it went.

“Go on!” Loki shouted again. “Make me laugh! Go ahead! MAKE ME LAUGH!”

“Mr Loki,” she interjected, voice coming out a loud gasp. “I - I’m sorry to interrupt, I…”  _Might have made a mistake._

The man turned, his face softening completely, until suddenly there was a nice young man stood above her. “Hello? Gosh, I almost can’t see you in the dark. House lights up, Penny!”

A warmer glow faded into being around her. “Is…everything okay in here?” She asked, eyes on the young man. He looked completely fine, though - even his posture seemed to have improved with the lighting.

“Of course - you must be Maria.” He slid himself down from the stage. Lithe. “So very pleased to meet you. My name is Loki.” He held out his hand and smiled warmly and broadly. Now he was speaking normally, his glassy accent came through. “My sincerest apologies for having startled you. We’re working on a sketch, you see. A skit of hecklers.”

“I see,” Maria conceded. “I’m here to talk to you on behalf of Nick Fury. Do you have a moment?”

He really was a nice young man, she decided as they talked over Nick’s plans, and more than happy to both sign the agreement  _and_ hear about all her ideas for the program. She headed home with a lighter heart than when she’d gone in.

All in all, he’d made a dramatic end to a successful day. Exactly what was needed in a house of the arts.

 

She started to wonder how she was going to sleep that night right after she wondered how he’d known her name.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony meet. Tony is an awkward fish. Steve is also kind of an awkward fish. They're going to need to get better at this if they're ever going to bang.

 

**Tony**

 

At least Tony wasn’t alone in staring.

The guy who’d just walked in had inadvertently shifted the entire balance of The Daily Grind, and Tony was going to have to invite over the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch to make things even again.

So, for starters, he had a body that an underwear model was now jealous of. That was already a thing. He was also devastatingly handsome. Again, more people were looking at him than at Tony. It was enough to make a lesser man cry.

As he approached, Tony pulled his best _normal human being not totally hopped up on caffeine_ face. “Hi. How can I help you?”

The guy stared at the chalkboard behind Tony’s head. “Do you have anything that isn’t coffee?”

Tony sighed. “I think you’re missing the point of a coffee shop.”

His mouth quirked up. “Actually, I’m here on business.”

“Not you, too? Listen, Pepper’s just gone out. She’s back in ten. Are you Fury?”

He laughed. “I take it you haven’t met Fury. No, I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. From the art gallery?”

“Oh,” Tony said, “Sure. Steve. The one and only.”

“I take it you don’t know anything about my art gallery.”

“I don’t really do knowing. I do being known.”

Steve’s smile was slightly tight. “Well, Ms Hill mentioned that you’d signed on for this Avengers charity project?”

“Yeah. Dumb name. Should have read the form more carefully. Look, can you order a juice or something if you want to talk? I can get Don to take over for me, but you’re kind of blocking up the line.”

A couple of minutes later they were sat down, Steve sipping on a grapefruit juice and Tony jittering over his coffee. “This is good.”

Tony puffed out his chest, affronted. “Of course it’s good. I made it.”

Steve gave him a dry, amused look that translated into an odd, light feeling in his gut. “So, I’m contacting everyone who’s getting on board - I thought I’d maybe host a gathering at the gallery so we could all meet. You know, get the ball rolling. I figure everyone runs somewhere nice, so maybe we all get a few nights out with the bargain.”

“That’s kind of sneaky. I think I like it.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, and Tony couldn’t help noticing how blue his eyes are. “It’s a symbiotic relationship." 

“Wow - get you, college kid. Could almost fool me you’re not an artist.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “Not really. I just teach it. And curate. And collect.”

“You don’t paint?”

“Oh, I paint,” Steve said. “I did a mean potato print the other day.”

Tony snorted before he could help it.

Don called out that there were five minutes to closing, and the stragglers started to pick up their stuff.

Steve didn’t take his eyes off his face. “Anyway, Ms Hill told me who’d already confirmed. Aside from us, there’s a Dr Banner at some sort of spa-salon getaway called Tranquil Island, and an all and sundry performing arts house run by some guy who calls himself Loki. Oh, and a kind of fitness club. Gym, dojo, whatever it is. I’d heard of this one before - Asgard? Some of my students talk about it, but they call it Asgard-on-23rd. The owner is…kind of a legend. People just call him Thor.”

“Ha,” Tony barked. “I know the guy. I’ve met him too. Man, he’s just about as crazy as they get, isn’t he?”

Steve made a noncommittal face. “I think he’s from England.”

“I think he’s from Mars, or something,” Tony remarked.

“He teaches some new-fangled martial art,” Steve recalled. “I think it’s called - well - actually, I have no clue how to pronounce it.”

“It’s probably Elvish for ‘magical spell to get totally ripped’, or something, knowing him.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “The man’s built like a tree,” he said wistfully.

Now, Tony could either interpret that as jealousy, or…the other thing.

“That what you like, huh?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, looking perfectly composed. He shook his head, asking for clarification. “Sorry?”

Tony tried a different route. Except, stop, he shouldn’t be trying any routes at all. What was he trying to do? “You’re not so bad yourself. Where do you go, if not Asgard-on-23rd?”

Steve didn’t look quite so composed now. “Oh, you know. Here and there. I go for runs. I mostly lift things at home, to be honest.”

“Bullshit,” Tony said. “I lift things at home and I’m not half your size. What’s your secret? Steroids? Magic?”

“Uh,” Steve said, and his face was adorably red. “Protein?”

Tony grinned for a moment before realizing he’d accidentally categorized Steve as ‘adorable’.

He might be in a bit of trouble here.

The door swung open and Tony caught the flash of a red ponytail. He nodded at Pepper as she headed for the counter.

“Anyway,” Steve added, flush dying down, “You’re the only underwear model in the room right now.”

Tony waved his hand. “That was one time. What about sportswear? Loungewear? Suits?”

“Yeah, you looked good in those too, but…” Steve’s eyes slowly widened and the flush came back. “I - that - I meant - that’s not what I meant.”

Tony grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re not the first person to get flustered around me. What can I say? I’m rich, famous, incredibly attractive, and ever so slightly androgynous. It’s normal to be a little confused - it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m not confused,” Steve said coldly.

Tony blinked.  _Okay then_. Flustered due to shyness, not sexual attraction.

Tony really shouldn’t be thinking that was a  _shame_. What exactly was he playing at, here?

Steve broke the silence by glancing at his watch. “Uh, I should…probably get going.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed quickly, joining Steve as they stood up. “Well, you’re welcome any time.”

“Thanks,” Steve said with a strained smile.

“I mean, don’t get too excited. All that means is you’re not barred.”

Steve laughed a little. “Well. Small successes, and all that.” He smiled a little more naturally. “I guess I’ll let you know about the gathering at the gallery.”

“Yeah.” No. “Wait, you don’t have my phone number.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Pretentious artsy douchebag. What, am I meant to use smoke signals? Should I perfect my birdcalls?”

“I mean,” Steve said instantly, “You’ve already got catcalling down, so I guess that’s the next logical step.”

Tony smiled at the ground.

“Well,” Steve went on. “You’re welcome to stop by - but I guess you’re busier than I am, so maybe I’ll swing by next time I’m passing. Grab a drink.”

“Sure. Our coffee is great, by the way. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“I don’t really change my mind easily.”

_Shame,_  Tony thought again, then shook himself. “Go on - get out of here so I can turn the ‘open’ sign around behind you.”

Steve waved once through the glass as he left, and Tony felt Pepper’s eyes on him like a pair of red laser beams.

He turned around. “I don’t know what you’re going to say,” he announced, “But I’d like to preemptively ask you to shut up.”

“Who was  _heeee_?” She drawled anyway.

“Steve Rogers from that youth art studio, or whatever. Remember the hot chick I mentioned the other day? He’s one of the other ones her boss is recruiting for this charity thing. Also, shut up now?”

Pepper smiled at him, bright and calculated. “Wow. He was pretty. Like, really pretty. And did you see how broad his shoulders were? Wow.”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked in an accusational tone.

“I’m just wondering if you realized how much it looked like you were ready to wrap your ankles behind your head for that guy,” she said casually. “If not, you’re welcome.”

“Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know subtlety isn’t exactly your forte, but maybe cut down on the licking your lips and staring at his mouth if it’s not the impression you’re trying to give off?”

“I wasn’t giving off any impression! I wasn’t licking my lips! Or his mouth! I mean, looking at his mouth. Or anywhere else. Except his eyes. And that’s only because you’re supposed to.”

“Helps that they were turquoise blue.”

“I’d say more of an azure,” Tony said.

Pepper covered her mouth to hide her laugh. “Tony has a crush.”

“Oh, my god,” he replied, “My boss is a twelve-year-old.”

“Do you think he’s gay? I think he must be gay. Straight guys don’t work out like that, more’s the pity. Plus, he runs an art studio? Gay. Hey, do you think he likes the spread for your underwear campaign? Do you think he  _likes_  it, Tony? Do you think he-“

“Time. Out.” Tony said loudly, on the verge of covering her mouth himself. “I do not want to start thinking about that. I’ve only just met the guy, and he’s meant to be my colleague. Collaborator. Whatever.”

“Mm, I’m sure you’re looking forward to collaborating with him…”

“How did you make that sound dirty? I hate you.”

“It’s why you love me, actually.”

Tony sighed. “This is true. Now, go get me some more coffee. Black.”

Pepper folded her arms. “Admitting that you love me won’t get me to do favors for you, Tony.”

He sank deeper into the armchair. “What about if I tell you you look nice in those shoes?”

“Try something I don’t know.” She smirked. “Okay, fine. I’ll get you a coffee.”

“Thaaaank you,” Tony called.

“You’ll need it to nurse your aching heart.”

Tony scowled. “Never mind. I don’t want it anymore.”

 

**Clint**  

 

 

“Ohhh my god,” he breathed out with a swirl of smoke.

He took another drag and leaned against the back door. “So, you’re just looking for someone charitable, right? ‘Cause I’ve got that down. Don’t know how many hearing aids I’ve funded for folks over the years. Thing is though, shit, I’ve gotta have about five more of these before I go back in or I’m going to rip a kid’s arm off. Do you know how long you keep stinking of garlic bread after they throw it in your hair? Jesus. Anyway - Mary, was it? Yeah, I’d love to get involved, as long as you know what you’re getting into.”

She grinned. “Maria. And it’s standard procedure for us to completely ignore the personal lives of clients if they’re not breaking the law. If someone points a mic at you, I’d avoid joking about assaulting children, but otherwise, you’re just what we’re looking for.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” He folded his arms, incredibly well-muscled as they were, not that Maria was looking. “We’re the most family-friendly place in town.”

“I’ve heard the kids love you.”

The long-suffering sigh of a garlic-scented man. “That, they do.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://scribblywobblytimeylimey.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is very much appreciated, here or on [tumblr](http://scribblywobblytimeylimey.tumblr.com). People who give feedback are wonderful, delicious marshmallows. Lots more coming soon, especially if there are lots of marshmallows who want more marshmallow-y goodness.
> 
> Special thanks to pre-existing marshmallow [imjusthereforthelions](http://imjusthereforthelions.tumblr.com). Sorry there were no lions.


End file.
